


Death Waits Downstairs

by ouijadarling



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Gay, Kissing, M/M, Prinxiety - Freeform, Romance, Slight fluff, TW: Blood mention, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23805301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouijadarling/pseuds/ouijadarling
Summary: Roman is a prince looking for adventure, and he finds it in the form of an entrance to hell. There's a dead-King ruling there, and he's looking for someone to keep him company. And there's a boy who keeps appearing at night-and somehow Roman's falling in love.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Comments: 34
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY! This is a finished work. But it's super long for a one-shot, so I'll post a chapter a day. Please enjoy! (I came up with this after having writer's block, because the best way to get over writer's block? Start a whole new fic!)

On the twelfth day of the twelfth month, long after yesteryear, the crows were regularly kidnapping children and the dead had risen from their graves and walked away, after deciding that death was not for them.

The murdered king and the undead queen had managed to have a proper child, and he was quite a normal child, excepting the unfortunate thing that he might have lost his clinical sanity. So naturally, at nineteen, everyone stayed quite out of his way, and he was left to wander the palace. The servants passed him talking to himself sometimes, and were taken in by his over-complicated internal monologue, and they would spend the rest of the day wondering why the walls were bleeding. (They weren’t.)

Prince Roman had been wandering for some time, and he had come across a nice bit of trickery that when you pressed a certain mirror, it swung inward, revealing a little room that locked from the outside. There was nothing much. Some dust particles and mice, and another skeleton in the corner. Roman left the little room with minor annoyance, for he had been hoping to find something interesting, but he neglected to close the door, and some time later a hapless servant who had been wandering the castle found the room, and got locked in, and it was another sixty years before it was reopened.

These things often happened, because the castle had been created with a lot of ill intent and some small black magics, so it was prone to minor shifts and moving of rooms and passages, and it was generally treated with respect, because people who offended the castle or its inhabitants got themselves lost, and lost was not really where you wanted to be.

So after a long period of time, in which several hours were spent up, Roman returned to his room, which was really a very  _ nice  _ room, except for the fact that there was an entrance to hell in it, but that was usually overlooked because the room also had a bay window that viewed a lake. The entrance to hell was very uncertain, and moved around a lot, but ghosts and things did occasionally pop out, looking to go for a quick jaunt about the kingdom, rattling chains and such. The rattling of chains was very stereotypical, but ghosts had never been much for originality, so it was a much-used commodity. Another thing that came out was ghouls, and they were usually there for small acts of revenge for their murders or homicides or patricides or whatever was popular with the local teens.

Then you had your miscellaneous, and they were just there for a chat. In this case, the entrance to hell was a grave, and it had appeared without preamble on Roman’s bed-room floor, which was bothersome as it had just been swept, and now there was grave dirt all over it. And what had come out of it was a skeleton, and he was wearing some French Revolution finery, but he spoke with no accent at all, which struck Roman as odd. But he daren’t dwell on that for too long, because the dead have lost their patience, and they have a tendency to violently murder people who take up their time. (Why they did this was unclear, because they were going to hang about for all eternity, so it wasn’t like they were in a rush for anything.)

“Hollowbones,” Roman addressed him(for that was the proper title of respect for a skeleton-dead) “hollowbones, why have you come?” 

And the skeleton grinned, showing bone teeth and black space, and said only, “Why, little prince, have you not heard? You sleep upon the dead, and you walk on graves, and the dead-King would like to make your acquaintance.” So saying this, he snapped his fingers, and a freshly dug grave appeared in the bed-room floor, and the skeleton leapt down into it. Unbidden, Roman followed, and presently the grave shut up over his head and vanished. There were only a few spots of dark soil on the floor to make notice that the grave had ever been there at all.

Roman’s head passed through black grave dirt, and all was dark for a moment, and then he felt dry air, and his boots were touching cold grey stone. He was standing in front of an iron door with thirteen locks and bolts, and as he stared the skeleton took out a bronze key and unlocked each of these locks in turn, and slid open the bolts, and opened the door to more darkness. Beneath was a spiral of brittle stairs, dark stone and with no rails or attachments to speak of. Roman was, at this point, wondering whether new activity was worth it, and maybe he had better turn back. But the lure of adventure called, and he passed through the door, which slammed shut behind him, and Roman looked back once, and the knobs and locks were sliding back and clicking into place again.

The skeleton was walking along, its bones rattling tremendously, down the steep flight of stone stairs. Soon they reached the bottom, and the skeleton looked at Roman and said “Here is where I leave you, and I am sorry for it, for you would have liked a companion ahead, and here is where you will have the worst of anything.” And he wished Roman luck, and Roman accepted, but he was thinking he rather did not need luck, he needed only to keep a level head, and to not do anything foolish. And the skeleton went back the way they had come, and Roman continued on, and he came to a part of the place where he was thinking that this would not be all bad. 

For he had entered a forest, but this was not a forest of green leaves and climbing vines, this was a forest of bronze trees with copper-metal leaves, and as Roman gazed he saw copper roses, opening to face the moon that was washing over it all. He did not take a flower, nor a leaf or branch from tree, because he had read the fairy-tales, and most all warned against acts such as this, lest you fall victim to a curse or spell.

And then the bronze ended, and here was where he entered a silver-forest, and again the leaves and branches and blossoms were forged from silver, and again he took nothing.

And this time when the silver-forest ended, he was not in the least surprised to see a gold-place with everything made from gold, and even a small creek trickling molten gold. And here the forest ended and the creek was a wide, fast-moving river, and there was a rickety raft, and a ferryman in a cloak, holding a pole, standing by the side. As Roman drew close, the river did not appear gold, but blacker than ink, and the ferryman’s face was a skull, with empty sockets. 

Roman searched his pockets, and came up with a coin, and he gave that to the ferryman, and stepped onto the raft. The ferryman poled off the surface, and they went quickly across the river, and Roman stepped onto the opposite bank and began to follow the clearly-marked trail.

This was not so bad, then, he told himself. The skeleton had been wrong, certainly. But he felt uneasy still, and there were still eyes in the place around him, and he knew that the dead could not lie, and there was something about this place that would be more terrible than any he had ever encountered.

So it was that he followed the marked path, and he found a castle, not the same as his own but quite different, but at once the same. As he drew close he saw the crumbling battlements and the ivy-climbed stones, and he stepped foot onto the drawbridge and felt many things around him, although they were not visible.

The drawbridge proved short, and soon he was at the oak doors of the castle, and he was debating whether the polite thing to do would be to knock, and then they were opened. There was a liveried butler bowing to him, and Roman looked close and saw that he was mostly transparent. The castle was filled with elaborate rugs and chandeliers and tapestries, but it still felt empty. There were many passages to go through, and more than once he was tempted to stop and ask for directions, but contented himself with searching on his own, for he was unsure if the local spirits would prove helpful or malicious.

Then he happened across a pair of iron doors, and he knew at once that this was the throne room, and that he was expected in there, and this time he did not hesitate, and the doors were opened at once for him by two dead on either side, and he went through, unsure what to expect.

And there was a boy on an obsidian throne, and he looked hardly older than Roman himself, although Roman knew that he was many hundreds of years old, and was afraid, but did not show it. And the boy had violet-dark hair, and his eyes were beetle-black, and he wore an iron crown tipped with needle-thin spikes, and his smile was thin and cold.

“Welcome, Crown Prince,” he said, and Roman glared at him, feeling intense dislike already.

“You mock me,” Roman answered, and his voice carried throughout the throne room and the dead picked up their heads and whispered. 

“It was not my intent to mock you,” said the dead-King, and his smile vanished. 

“You know perfectly well that I shall never be the king, as my parents are unlikely to go quietly back to their graves, and besides I am quite insane and unfit to rule.”

“Yes, the insane Crown Prince, talking to himself at all hours of the day and night and wandering in the dark.”

“I have not actually lost my wits,” Roman confessed, and then he regretted it, for now the dead-King was looking at him with a marked interest.

“Really?” His tone was amused, but his eyes were no longer dull, and he was upright in his throne.

“No; I pretend to be so that I may be left alone. It’s preferable to being forced into things that I don’t want to, and this way I avoid being eligible for marriage.”

“Sensible.”

“Why have I been summoned?” Roman asked. “The entrance to here has been in my room for aeons, why now are you calling me?”

“Because it is now that I need you,” said the dead-King, “and anyway you grow tired of the waking-world.”

“How would you know that?” said Roman, and he was defensive, because this observation was correct.

“Why else would you have followed? This is the final destination. All journeys end here.”

“A touch dramatic,” Roman snapped. “Just tell me what you want, without the games.”

“I wanted only for your company--it grows tiring alone here.”

“You aren’t alone,” Roman pointed out, and he looked around him. “You have the dead all around you--you are not alone.”

“They aren’t alive,” said the king, and he looked tired, then. 

“Neither are you,” Roman said, and he regretted it, because then a spark flashed in the dead-King’s eyes, and he looked angry.

“I am alive,” he hissed. “Alive, and I hate it. I’ve spent years down here, in the dark and cold, and when I finally find someone to grant me companionship, they seem to hate me.” 

“I don’t hate you,” Roman said, and he wished it were not a lie, because he felt guilty suddenly, and he resented feeling guilty, for what was there to feel guilty for?

“Yes, you do.” The dead-King waved a hand at him. “You can leave now. I tire of you. Go back up to your mundane world in which you have to wander. I don’t need you.”

Roman wondered if that was a lie, but in any case he turned and left, and went back up the way he came, and the door opened easily, back up into his room, and the chill crawling down his spine was gone before he ever knew it had been there. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Roman speaks with a skeletal gardener and gets a protection charm for the dead-lands, as well as journeys back down through the entrance to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads-up- I will be updating EVERY DAY. Yup. Quarantine does that to you. So don't worry! Only 24 hours until I can click Post New Chapter!   
>  The unfortunate side effect of writing fics while trying to do schoolwork? I just turned in an English essay that I wrote for the plot of Romeo and Juliet: enemies to lovers slowburn 100k au and I'm gonna fail English, I know it. Anyway I hope you like this chapter:D

Nextday was relatively quiet, and nothing came through the entrance to hell, which never appeared anyway, and the ghosts in the castle rattled their chains and groaned half-heartedly. It was a staid day, and no wind blew, and the air was dry and cool. The castle was smothering, so as soon as he could Roman went outside into the gardens. There was no one else save a gardener, and this gardener happened to be dead, so that he had a sun-bleached animal skull for a head. Roman approached the gardener and asked politely if he needed any help.

“No, I need no help,” said the gardener as he clipped a towering hedge,“but mayhaps you need the help, for you have been in dealings with the dead-King.”

“How did you know?” Roman asked immediately. 

“You smell of death,” remarked the gardener, “and it is obvious.”

“I haven’t made any bargains with him,” Roman said. 

“Best not to even try,” the gardener warned, “because though he cannot lie, he deals in trickery, and you will not escape alive.”

“How do I avoid trouble?” 

The gardener laughed raspily, and it was some moments before he stopped.

“No, you cannot avoid trouble, for you are already in it deep, but here; I may help you.” And he drew from his pocket a thin crown of green leaves, and gave that to Roman, and Roman took it. “Wear this holly-cap, and you shall be invisible in the deadlands, so that no spirit may possess you.”

“Thank you,” Roman said, and he tucked the holly chain in his jacket. 

“And keep wise,” the gardener reminded, “that no food or drink may pass your lips, else you stay forever.” Roman nodded, and he turned and left, and as he left the gardener shook his head sorrowfully, but Roman did not see, and so was not bothered.

And nextday after that, there was a trap-door cut into his floor, and it looked as though it had been there forever, and occasionally it rattled and banged ominously, so that Roman was tempted to open it. Firstly he packed himself a bag, and in this bag he placed the holly-chain. He put in also bread, and cheese, and a silver flask of water, and because he felt that this selection was rather plain, a few jam tarts. Then he was ready, and he opened the trap-door and stepped inside, and there was a cleverly placed ladder which he climbed down, and this time no skeleton awaited him, but the door was already open. This time he passed through, and the door did not lock as he went through, but stayed open, and Roman was glad for this. 

And he passed through the forests, which seemed to take ages to finish, and the river, with its skeletal ferryman, and Roman was ready with his coin, and they went across the river. By the time Roman had got to the castle, the gates were open as were the doors, and he hastened to find his way inside. Upon finding that the throne room was empty, he chanced to search the other rooms, and in this way he found a feast-hall, and there was a long table with a chair at either end, and one of the chairs was occupied. 

The dead-King grinned upon seeing him, and his teeth were long and sharp, and Roman forced a rebellious smile back down, and sat. The table was laden with food, and Roman touched none of it, although he was sorely tempted by the platters of cake and pastries that lay near-by him. 

“You do not eat,” the dead-King said, and Roman said no, he did not, and instead pulled out his bag, from which he took his bread and cheese, and ate that, and drank only from his bottle of water. After that he pulled out his jam-tarts, which were now slightly crumbled around the edges, and had those too, and then did he chance to speak. 

“You didn’t tell me to leave this time,” Roman said. 

“No, I suppose not.”

“Why not?” Roman asked.

“Because,” the dead-King said, and he hesitated momentarily,“because you don’t annoy me.” 

“Is that all,” Roman said dryly. “Amazing. Then I will be going now, as you have nothing more to say to me.”

“Will you be back?” asked the dead-King.

“That depends,” said Roman, and he took his leave of the castle, and when he got back up to the waking-world, three days had passed. 

The servants had noticed, but they kept their chatter to themselves, as they were wont to do, and asides the nobles felt they were better off lacking the prince. They then decided not to notice his absence, and neither did they notice his reappearance, and if anyone did, they did not say so. 

Roman wandered the halls quite in a fog, for he had been quite taken with the dead-lands, and wondered what more they had to explore. It seemed far more interesting than where he was now, more fraught with peril. Peril was very interesting. 

The gardener did not speak to him anymore, only nodded when Roman passed him, as though he was surprised Roman had lived. Roman did not bother to acknowledge him; he was a prince, and he had no time for rudeness when the trapdoor still rattled and banged. 

It thumped and shook all that night, and harder still the next night, till thirdday, when Roman had had his fill of noise, and filled his pack from the kitchens.

The cook decided, very wisely, not to notice. They had grown accustomed to their job.

He went for a walk, then, to escape the noise, a midnight jaunt, through the gardens. The hedges loomed very ominously, but the knife in Roman’s boot was rather sharp. 

A twig cracked, and he immediately spun to attention. There was a shadow, long and thin, moving toward him. Panic seized Roman’s heart, and he bit down the rising surge of fear. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman meets Virgil! yay for the gays uwu :D

“Who’s there?” he called out, and there was no answer. The thin lamplight of a lantern illuminated a sharp, pale face, with dark hair and brown eyes. Roman stepped closer, and saw thick black thread sewing up his mouth, and relaxed.  _ Just another dead-one. It’s fine.  _ Except he was close enough, and he heard footfalls on the path, footfalls that were not his own, they were the other’s, and the dead did not have footsteps. The sewed-up boy stopped and stared at him, and the half of his face that Roman could see was covered in Xs of thread. “Your face-” Roman stopped. “Do you want me to cut the threads?” The other nodded, and so Roman pulled out his knife and cut the Xs of black thread through. The boy pulled the threads from his lips, and the small pinprick holes the thread had been laced through wept over with blood. Roman winced, and searching his pocket, he pulled out a handkerchief, which he handed to the other. The boy pressed the handkerchief to his mouth and it was several minutes before he pulled it away. In the darkness, the spots of blood were dark and rusted now, but it no longer dripped down. “You can keep it,” Roman said. “The handkerchief, I mean-I have a lot more like it-” and here he stopped, because inwardly he was cursing himself.  _ Why can’t you be properly decorous-don’t mention you have more-are you trying to act rich and affected?  _ “ _ Anyway,”  _ Roman said hastily, breaking out of his thoughts, “I’m Roman.”

“Oh, I know.” The other’s voice was low.

“How did you know?” Roman asked. “I mean-”

“Everybody knows who you are, Prince Roman,” and Roman detected a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Oh-right-” Roman stumbled. His face was burning. “Anyway, how’d you get all sewn up? That can’t be easy to do.”

“I’d prefer not to talk of it,” and something in his voice made Roman drop the subject. 

“All right,” Roman said, “then at least tell me who you are.”

“I won’t tell you that, but you can call me Virgil.” Roman nodded. 

“Okay, then. Virgil it is.”

“I’ll be going now,” Virgil said. “It was nice meeting you, Roman.” He turned to leave, and the spots of blood glinted dully red in the moonlight.

“Hey, wait,” Roman called out, and then Virgil had gone and he was alone with the whispering hedges and ghosts.

That day after Roman had slept a few hours, he descended again down the stone stairs. He did not go to the castle, instead choosing to wander the dead-lands and speak to its inhabitants. The ghosts roaming the dead forests and plains were all too happy for company, though their eyes were blank and dull with hunger, and their hands reached out to Roman, supplicatingly. After that Roman left, but he had not gone far when the ghosts behind him followed him, and one placed a hand on his back, cold and clear. Roman shivered hard, and turned, and the spirit was staring into him with hollow, dead eyes, and the ghost was starved. Roman ran, but it kept pace with him easily, and Roman was breathing hard before he remembered the holly-crown. Quickly he yanked it out of his pocket and placed it on his head, and nothing happened. Roman cursed. But the ghost was no longer following him, and he turned in surprise. Several yards back, the ghost was walking aimlessly around, searching with black eyes for-him? Roman guessed the holly-chain made him invisible to them, and he was glad of it. He escaped the dead-lands without injury, and swore never to go into the forests without protection again. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> roman meets virgil again...ooooooo damn we gonna see some gays in action,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> amazing....it's not like i'm kinda rushing their relationship to move on to my next cliffhanger....NOPE!! ahahhaaahahaha no wayyyyy i would NEVER do that what kind of sick monster do you think i am? anyway leave kudos or i fucking fight y'all, bitches.  
> *whispers* "Prinxiety......hhhhhnnnnnggghhhh" *clenches and unclenches many times my fist like Mr Darcy after he helps Elizabeth down from the carriage*

That night there was a tap, tap, tap on his windows, and Roman bolted upright, the blankets slipping down. The branches of his apple tree were reaching with long and sinuous fingers, tapping on the panes of glass. Roman opened the window, expecting to see a ghoul or some wandering cryptid, instead he caught a glance of dark hair. 

“Virgil!” he called. The boy in question looked up at him. “I’ll be right down,” Roman said more quietly, and then he climbed onto the ledge and scrambled down the tree. 

“Tree climbing comes naturally to you,” Virgil guessed.

“It’s one of my many talents,” Roman said. Virgil laughed quietly. “Actually, not really.” Roman held his hands palm-up. “I have a million cuts now. The bark is rather brittle.”

“That’s nice,” Virgil said. “To what do I owe the honor of your presence?”

“I just wanted a friend,” Roman said. “Do I need any other reason?”  
“We’re friends now?” Virgil asked. His face was slightly amused. “Surely you have others.”

“No, I don’t,” Roman admitted. “It’s surprisingly hard to make friends when everyone in the kingdom is convinced I’ve lost all senses.”

“Fantastic,” Virgil said dryly. “This is a nice garden.”

“It is,” Roman agreed lamely. He looked around. It was nice, this time of night. The flowers were too dark to see, but the hedges were prettily trimmed and the narrow paths were lined with pale glass stones, clearly visible. 

“So….” Virgil trailed off. In the dark, his brown eyes fairly glowed, and Roman was strangely tempted to kiss him. Roman stepped back hastily, feeling stupid. He was blushing, he knew it. At least it was dark and Virgil couldn’t tell. Then the lamplight he’d just stepped into illuminated his face.

“Why is your face all red?” Virgil asked. Roman cursed under his breath.

“Um, no reason!” Roman said brightly.  _ Too cheery, idiot! Stop it!  _ He lowered his tone. “I mean, no reason.”

“Okay,” Virgil said.  _ Oh no, he’s suspicious now! Change the subject! _

“Do you like animals?” Roman fairly shouted.  _ That’s the lamest conversation starter I’ve ever heard.  _ Roman willed his brain to stop making commentary and winced, waiting for Virgil’s answer.

“Yes,” Virgil said. “I don’t have any pets, though.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Roman commiserated. “Maybe you can get one? Sometime?”

“Maybe,” Virgil said. “I have to go now.”  
“Oh-” Roman cut off. _I am an idiot. There is no doubt._

“Don’t sound too disappointed,” Virgil said.

“Yeah-no,” Roman stumbled. He wanted to die. This was the worst conversation ever. Then all thoughts immediately cut out as Virgil pressed his lips quickly to Roman’s cheek. Then he pulled back, fast.

“See you tomorrow?” he asked. Roman nodded silently. The spot on his cheek where Virgil had kissed him was tingling, burning slightly. Or maybe that was his imagination. “Bye, Princey.” Virgil turned onto one of the paths and was gone into the darkness. 

“ _ Bye!”  _ Roman gasped out quickly. Then he stumbled back to his room before anything else earth-shattering happened. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA dramatic reveal time!!!!! hahahhahahahhahahaha I'll be laughing for much longer. Please excuse me.

Nextday he was ready to enter the deadlands again, and he vowed to himself that he would go only two more times, and then never again. He’d spent all his waking hours there, and they were beginning to take a toll on him. His face was thin, the result of not being able to eat or having enough to eat. There were shadows under his eyes, dark and big, from not sleeping, and yet no one had noticed his appearance. He supposed that was for the best-this way he wouldn’t be bothered by others’ concerns. But still, it stung a little bit.

The skeleton who had not come since that first day, did not come, but some assorted ghosts popped out of the tunnel in the wall that was barely larger than a crawlspace. Roman got through the tunnel, barely. It was so narrow he couldn’t move any way but forward, and he could not turn back if he had wanted to. The bottom dropped out of the tunnel, and Roman toppled forward, the air whistling as he picked up speed. He landed with a jarring crash on the ground, and gingerly picked himself up. Nothing seemed to be broken, although his legs ached where they’d hit the ground. Roman made his way cautiously to the castle.

Still quiet. Still silent. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. The dead-King was there again, and Roman greeted him coolly. 

“You’ve come back.”

“I was bored,” Roman said nonchalantly. 

“So you were.” They stood looking at each other for a moment. Roman shuffled slightly.

“So….” he trailed off. “Anything you want?”

“I want to know something, yes,” the dead-King said. He moved forward a bit. “Tell me, what have you been up to in the waking-world?”

“Nothing,” Roman lied. 

“You lie,” said the dead-King. “I know. But do you?”

“No,” Roman said quietly. “What do you mean?” 

The dead-King was barely inches away-Roman could have touched him.  _ Not that he wanted to.  _ No. 

“Appearances can be deceiving, Crown Prince,” the dead-king whispered, and the faintest smile showed on his face. 

“I know that,” Roman said. “What are you playing at?”

“It’s been days...and you still can’t see?” There was amusement, and a bit of sadness there. Roman tried not to overthink it. 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Are you in love?” the dead-King asked him plainly, and Roman was taken aback for a moment.

“I guess so,” Roman conceded.

“You guess?” The dead-King laughed viciously. “You guess? Love isn’t a guess, Crown Prince. It’s a yes or no. Simple.”

“Yes!” Roman spat. “Fine. Happy?”

“No,” the dead-King said. “I am not.”

“Then why did you want to know?” Roman asked. There was something...clicking. Connecting.

He leaned forward. His eyes were not dull now, no, they were alive with cold sparks. A shiver ran down Roman’s spine, icy cold. The dead-King pressed his mouth to Roman’s. Heat was spreading through Roman, burning outward from his lips. His bones felt molten. Roman pushed him away, moving backwards, away from him.

“What was that for?” Roman asked. 

“You haven’t realized yet?” and the dead-King looked genuinely hurt.

“No!” Roman spat. “I don’t realize anything! Other than you’re hiding something from me!”

“On that count, you are right. Would you be happy if you knew?”

“Yes!” Roman said, quickly. The dead-King nodded, and his face was solemn.

“I thought you would have realized by now. I suppose I was wrong,” he conceded.

“I don’t understand,” Roman said, and as he said it the dead-King’s eyes sluiced from dark and empty to caramel brown and shining. Roman stumbled back as the dead-King’s hair grew dark and dull black, and his synapses sparked with realization.

“It’s you,” Roman whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUNNNNN dramatic CLIFFHANGER HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAH come back tomorrow for the next installment, guys! and happy Monday lmao I am fucking failing all my classes because of this fic:)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one's short but hey! 2 more chapters woo-hoo! and then we're done! basically, gay realization sets in for Roman and Roman, like a gay, rUnS aWaY fRoM hIs prObLeMs, dUH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah yes, who doesn't love a short chapter to read in the middle of a gosh-darn pandemic (I'M REALLY SORRY IT'S SO SHORT AAAAAAAAHHHHH i am a failure)

“It’s you,” Roman whispered.

“Are you happy now, Princey?” Virgil asked him.

“I-I don’t-” Roman, rather than answer, turned and ran from the castle. His boots pounded against the stone floors, and his heartbeat was roaring in his ears. The forest was dark and silent and for once nothing followed him. Roman hardly cared. Virgil had been using him, had lied to him, made Roman care about him-for what? This was all a game to him. Roman became angrier as he thought of this, and he rattled the doorknob of the exit until the door sprang open. Roman slammed it behind him, and when he was back in his room, he paced the wooden floorboards until sunrise, his thoughts racing.

“Idiot!” Roman spat. He took up his sword and hacked at the bedpost until it was marred with chinks and scratches, until the sword grated at his hands and his palms bled. So  _ stupid,  _ Roman cursed himself. Then he collapsed on his bed and fell into a pitch-dark sleep. 

“Roman!” There was a wail of wind, and Roman was alone in the forest.  _ How did I get here?  _ “Roman!” the cry came again. 

Roman turned, saw nothing.

“Virgil!” he yelled. “Is that you?”

“ _ Come…”  _

“What?” Roman shouted. The trees, all around him, were blackening and crumbling to ash.

“ _ Come back,”  _ the wind blew the words. The air was full of gray ash, and as Roman watched a dark figure came out of the trees. Then it, too, blew into ash and crumbled, and Roman cried out. His hands were blackening. He blew away with the wind, piece by piece.

Roman bolted upright, gasping. He was tangled in his blankets. It was night still, and a cold wind blew through the window. It banged open, shutters rattling. His closet door was rattling, too. Roman opened it, and saw not rows of shirts and tunics, but a tree-lined path of graves. 

“I have to go back,” Roman said aloud. Then he crossed through the door and it swung shut silently behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter, we've acknowledged this a lot now, but the final 2 will be longer. check in tomorrow, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals! (so what if i fucking stole that from thomas sanders, it's a good line fuckers)  
> and as always, leave comments and kudos! thamk friemds:)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aaahhhhh more gay angst oh yeah baby! this is the SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER! i'm kinda sad this is ending :( but i'm happy i can give y'all a good ending(or maybe not......):)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys for commenting. i love y'all !!!!!! |\\_/|  
>  (* *)  
>  /> <\

A howling wind blew across the plains, and the forest was no longer gold and silver. The trees were brittle and gray, and as Roman watched a gust of wind blew away a branch, scattering its ashes. The wind picked up speed until Roman was certain he’d be carried off his feet. He braved through the shrieking wind until up ahead he saw the castle. There were ghosts capering after him, hungry and distorted. Roman was pulling the holly-chain out of his pack with shaking fingers. 

The river was just ahead. The ferryman was nowhere in sight, but the raft and pole were tied to a post. Roman undid the rope as fast as he could and pushed off from the banks. The river was swollen and wind-tossed, threatening to rise over the bank and flood. The current raged, pulling Roman downstream faster than he could go the other way. He poled hard, and vainly. The water snapped it in two, and he was alone on a fast-moving river. Up ahead was a waterfall, with a yawning mouth of black rocks, jutted and sharp. Roman jumped off the raft, and as he did the holly-crown flew from his pocket and was dashed to pieces by the frenzied waves. “No!” Roman grabbed it, and the pieces were wet and torn--unusable. He swam as hard as he could against the current, and shaking, cold, crawled onto the opposite bank. His clothes were soaked to the skin, and his hair was dripping. Roman ran as hard as he could to the castle. Inside, it was dead silent. Roman flung open the doors to the throne room. They slammed open with a bang. 

“I came back for you!” Roman yelled. “Even though you lied to me!”

Virgil was on his feet in a minute. “You came back!”

“I’ll always come back,” Roman said. “No matter what.”

“Why?” 

Roman stared at him in disbelief. “Because I love you!”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Virgil choked. “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is!” Roman crossed his arms and glared at him.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” Virgil said.

“Why not?”

“You can’t stay,” Virgil said, and his tone was of sadness. 

“What do you mean?” Roman asked. Virgil sighed. 

“The longer you stay, the more your soul roots to here. Look.” He grabbed Roman’s hands, and held them faceup. White, pale, cold, and bone ending at the knuckle. Roman’s hands were turning skeletal. “See?”

“No,” Roman whispered. He stared at his hands, at the fingers ending in bone.

“Walk with me, Princey. Just for a little bit.” Roman nodded, and they left the throne room, cutting through a maze of passageways and doors. There were doors at the end of the long hallway, standing open. Virgil and Roman went through them, and Roman realized they were in the gardens. There were trees and bushes, hanging heavy with blossoms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come back tomorrow for....what's that...the LAST CHAPTER
> 
> it's the finalllll countdownnnnn


	8. THE FINAL CHAPTER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> damn it's over......i'm sorry; but this was fun to write! i hope you guys like this last chapter! roman and virgil are gay. that's it. that's the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update:(

Virgil and Roman went through them, and Roman realized they were in the gardens. There were trees and bushes, hanging heavy with blossoms.

“My hands….there’s some way to fix it, isn’t there?” Roman looked searchingly at Virgil.

“There is,” Virgil admitted. “But...you wouldn’t do it.”

“Yes!” Roman said. “I would do it!” He glared at Virgil. “No matter what.”

“I won’t tell you,” Virgil said bitterly. “I won’t do that to you.”

“Don’t be an idiot!” Roman spat. “I want to stay, don’t you get it?” Roman turned away, yanking at a white rose, the edges tinged with crimson. It came off the bush with a snap, and Roman hissed under his breath as a thorn bit into his hand. The petals turned black and dissolved in Roman’s hand. They were entering into the grove of fruit trees now. Roman looked up into an arbor of peaches, and on the far side of the orchard he saw a twelve-foot tree. There were red pomegranates, hanging off the tree and weighing down the branches. Roman pulled one off its stem and snapped it open. 

“What are you doing?” Virgil was watching him. Roman didn’t answer, instead popping out a ruby-red aril, then two more. “Roman! What are you doing?”

“Staying,” Roman answered. 

“NO!” Virgil shouted. “I can’t let you do that, Roman. Please!”

“Even if it means you’ll never be happy?”

“Even if it means I’ll never be happy. Because you wouldn’t be, down here. You need sunlight, daylight. Not dark, moonless night,” Virgil said. “I can’t do that to you, Princey.”

“It’s okay, Virgil,” Roman said. “I’m happier here than anywhere else.” Virgil smelled like smoke and lavender. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Virgil’s. Lightness pressed through him. Virgil’s mouth was soft, but he tasted of ash and snow. Roman pulled away, then. Then he bit down on the pomegranate seeds and swallowed. 

_ Heat, cold heat, light dark black white candle ice cold warm breeze spring rain sun moon summer winter freezing  _ **_burning_ ** . Roman choked. There was ice in his chest, freezing his heart. So cold he could hear the crack of it splintering. He fell.

“Roman!” There was someone screaming his name from far away. So far off. There was wetness on his face. It was dripping down his cheeks.  _ Water. That’s right. No, wait. This isn’t right. I should be awake.  _ “Roman, I’m really sorry about this.” He felt a shove. His lungs filled with water. There was darkness all around him. Bubbles floated to the surface. He opened his eyes. Roman was on a silt-covered river bed, bubbles rising to the top from around him.  _ I don’t want to drown,  _ Roman thought.  _ Then swim, idiot!  _ Roman shoved his way to the top, the water dragging him down. A wave splashed over his head, and he gasped air. Virgil was grabbing his arms, hauling him out. “You idiot!” There were tears dripping down Virgil’s cheeks. “I thought you were going to die!” 

“I wouldn’t leave you,” Roman said. 

“You mean that?” 

“Of course.” Virgil flung his arms around Roman, and Roman tentatively hugged him back, leaning his head on Virgil’s shoulder. 

“You’re dripping on me,” Virgil sniffled. 

“It’s okay,” Roman said. “We’ll be okay. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all. I'm gonna post my highschool AU in a few days. i kinda need to fix everything because i named deceit Darcy in the AU and guess fucking what Thomas Sanders gave Deceit a name so now my whole AU is wrong. Damn. see you in a couple days with my next work! I love all of you!   
> and special mention to codevassie and Gwen_Delaney for faithfully commenting and being awesome humans! :D

**Author's Note:**

> pls...i am begging u, comment and leave kudos...and also fucking roast me if you see a typo:)


End file.
